Wall of Disclaimers is up on my profile.
I saw the television show and I am hooked. They are my new Merlin, White Collar, Sherlock, Grimm, and SoH, equivalent pair. Platonic though since I just couldn't hop on the train. I still need some stronger sub-text since it's looking a little like the White Collar brother-from-another-mother-ness.
None the less, I can figure out ways to make it happen. Still working on a Grimm Sentinel AU.
Travis almost groaned as a tall, pale figure entered the room.
"Capt. You've gotta be kidding me."
Not him. Just not him.
The rounded man gave him a glare.
"Travis, behave. He's new."
Blondie seemed to be too far away to hear their conversation.
Or he's ignoring it.
Travis eyed the figure.
"He's a lawyer."
"Not anymore."
With that parting shot, Captain took his leave.
Travis sat on the couch.
Man, what a "killer" choice.
Blondie walked up to him, smiling tightly. His eye crinkled at the edges, mirthless.
"Hello," the not-so-much-a-stranger muttered.
"Hi."
The man exhaled through his nose and glanced around the room.
Then he extended a hand.
"Wes."
Why? I already know your name.
"Special Guide Wesley Mitchell."
Special because you hid it so freaking well until that case.
"Sentinel Travis," he offered anyway.
"I know."
Hell. Yeah, you know.
Wes took a seat beside him.
They sat there for a beat, unsure.
Travis held his breath.
Right next to him was the pure, sweet scent of unbonded guide.
And there was a soft tinge of angst and depression, his favorite.
Screw this.
Travis grabbed his arm, dragging him off to the separate room.
"Let's get this over with."
Wes, completely calm about the situation in his irritating way, kept up.
"And not be awkward about it in the morning?" Wes asked.
No, Wes "inquired". Travis' brain supplied.
Hands were already at his collar.
No, duh.